


Pet Names

by entersomethingcleverhere



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Adorable, Domesticity, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Intimacy, One Shot, Pet Names, also this is my election day gift to all of you, because it's my favorite day of the year, but i persevered, musings, olicity - Freeform, olicity one shot, set in early season 4, so you all get a gift, this almost made me want to gag from the cute, this might be the fluffiest thing i've ever written
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-08
Updated: 2016-11-08
Packaged: 2018-08-29 22:55:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8508757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/entersomethingcleverhere/pseuds/entersomethingcleverhere
Summary: Oliver can predict what Felicity is thinking based solely on the pet names she gives him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Election Day! It's my favorite day of the year, and I was feeling joyful. And that means a gift for everyone who enjoys cuteness and fluff. 
> 
> Also, OTE was bumming me out and I needed to write something to cheer me up.
> 
> Hope you enjoy it!

When Felicity calls him “darling,” he knows she wants something.

It’s in the way her voice gets a little breathy when she’s murmuring the epithet. Like, “Darling, can we _pretty please_ go see _Me Before You_ this weekend?” or, “You would not _believe_ how gorgeous these shoes are, darling.”

She gets kind of soft whenever she says it. It’s almost like she thinks if she makes herself sound or look or feel malleable, it’ll somehow rub off on him. And damn it if it works like eighty percent of the time.

She uses it not even two days after they come back to Star City. They’re still in the process of moving and unpacking all of their stuff, but the thing about the loft is that it’s so much bigger than their cozy little house in Ivy Town. Even once they finish unpacking, the place will still look like it’s mostly unlived in because they don’t have enough stuff to fill it with.

Or so Felicity says after she’s unpacked exactly one box of bedroom items.

“Felicity, we do not need a home gym,” he reminds her gently as he starts unpacking the kitchen stuff. It has not escaped his notice that she has ceased unpacking, leaving him to do it all.

“OK, I know that you have all your work out stuff in the lair, but what about me? I can’t exactly go around hitting a giant tire with a sledgehammer for my workout.”

He sighs and rolls his eyes. “But if you get a treadmill or an elliptical machine, you’re going to use it for exactly one week before giving up and letting the thing gather dust in the corner of our bedroom.”

Her jaw drops open in shock. “Excuse me, sir, but that is _not_ true!”

“Oh it isn’t? Remember that sewing machine you bought after we moved to Ivy Town? You said that you wanted to start sewing your own skirts and after you bought that first pattern, you gave up and said it was too complicated and we ended up giving it away at the garage sale.”

She grimaces. “That’s _one_ time.”

“And then what about the slow cooker? You said you wanted to learn how to cook and so Laura Hoffman generously let us have one of her spare slow cookers. It sat there for a month before it got used.”

“But it ended up getting used!” she shouts triumphantly.

“Yeah, by _me_.”

She huffs. “All right, all right. So you may have a point about all those other things, but I _promise_ , I’m going to get so much use out of this treadmill. I wouldn’t have to take out a membership at a gym and I wouldn’t have to run outside. I know how much you hate it when I do my runs outside.”

He grunts. He can see where this is going. He can spot it like a train getting ready to bowl him over from a mile away.

Suddenly, Felicity’s no longer at her computer. She’s standing behind him as he unwraps all the dishware, her hands on his biceps as she leans into his back.

“Please, darling?” she whispers against his shoulder. “Please?”

Goddamn it.

“ _Fine_ ,” he groans.

At this point, he doesn’t even know why she bothers asking. Most of the time she ends up getting her way anyway, because as much as he tries to fight it, he can’t bring himself to deny her anything she wants.

She squeals with happiness over her victory, jumping up and down and clapping. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” she chants. He turns around and she throws her arms around his neck to give him a sweet kiss.

“You are the most dangerous woman I’ve ever met,” he tells her with a mock serious glare.

She grins cheekily up at him. “But you love me anyway.”

He sighs, because damn it, it’s true.

He doesn’t know what’s more effective: “darling” or her Loud Voice.

* * *

She calls him “babe” when she’s drunk.

It doesn’t happen very often. Almost not at all, really. Between her day job as CEO of Palmer Technologies and her night gig as tech guru for the Green Arrow, she doesn’t have a lot of time left over to go out with the girls to get wasted.

But sometimes she’ll come back tipsy after Sunday brunch with Thea, because she had one too many mimosas. Or on the very, very rare, quiet Friday night, she’ll have one too many glasses of wine as they sit down on the couch, snuggled together and watching whatever cheesy movie she darling-ed him into.

And every time, she’ll smile at him, peck him on the lips (a little sloppily, truth be told) and call him babe.

It should bother him — in the past, whenever a girl called him babe, it immediately made him think of that dumb talking pig.

But for some reason, he doesn’t feel that way when it falls from her lips. When she calls him babe, he feels...loved. Cherished in a way he never would have expected or even thought he deserved.

Ever since he announced he’s running for mayor, they’ve had to put in so many joint appearances at so many fundraisers that it almost makes him wish he could take it all back, tell everyone he doesn’t really want to be mayor, it was just some huge misunderstanding.

But then Felicity tells him that if the worst thing about trying to become mayor so far is putting on his penguin suit and schmoozing all the rich folk out of their dubiously-earned dollars, he could do a lot worse. You know, considering his night job.

The Star Citizens for a Better Tomorrow probably take the cake for the most boring fundraiser yet. The thing about the SCBT is that only old people join, and their idea of a good time is far different than most anyone else’s.

At the very least, there’s an open bar.

And it’s not until the night is (finally) over and they’re walking into their loft that he realizes just how much Felicity has taken advantage of it.

“Babe,” she groans as she stumbles over the threshold of their loft and immediately slips her feet out of her insanely tall heels. “ _Babe_. That event was _so boring_.”

He chuckles as he follows her in and locks the door behind him. “It wasn’t the way I imagined spending a Saturday night, that’s for sure.”

She turns around and smiles up at him. It’s a lazy, easy smile and it makes him want to kiss it right off of her.

“Let me guess,” she teases. “ _You_ would have much rather been spending the evening dressed in leather instead of a tuxedo, jumping from rooftop to rooftop and putting arrows into bad guys.”

He grins as he shrugs his jacket off him and pulls his bowtie apart. “You know me so well.

She snorts as she drops her shoes on the floor and collapses onto the couch, her eyes immediately closing. “Well I was right there with you. I kept praying that there was going to be some sort of robbery that would require our attention so we could get the hell out of there.”

She frowns as she opens her eyes. “Is that bad? That I was _wishing_ for a crime to save me from boredom?”

“Well given the circumstances, I think it’s understandable,” he grins at her.

She chuckles as he lifts her legs so he can sit next to her. Then he drapes her legs across his lap and his hands immediately start rubbing the knots out of her tired feet.

“Mmm,” she sighs. “You keep doing that and you might just get lucky, babe.”

He laughs. “I think you might have had one too many glasses of wine to enjoy it.”

She purses her lips as she considers his words. “Hmm. Maybe.” Then she pulled her feet from his grasp so she could sit up and wrap her arms around his neck. “But that doesn’t mean _you_ can’t enjoy it, right?”

The smile on her face is so wicked and tempting that he doesn’t even think twice as she presses her warm lips against his. He lets her hiss him, kiss her way down his neck as her fingers undo the buttons of his dress shirt and push his suspenders off his shoulders.

Soon enough, his pants are undone and her head is in his lap, her mouth wrapped around him. He loses track of all time and knowledge and what feels like seconds later, he succumbs to his release. He throws his head back against the couch and shouts her name over and over again until he’s sure he’s completely hoarse.

When she’s finished, she lifts her head and fixes him with a self-satisfied grin that makes him breathless.

“I love you,” he blurts out.

She giggles and presses a kiss against his cheek. “I love you too, babe.”

The next morning, she wakes up with a groan, but he’s got chocolate chip pancakes with a side of bacon to help chase away the hangover. And though he knows her head is pounding like someone had taken a hammer to her temples, she still fixes him with that same smile from last night.

She doesn’t call him babe, but the feeling of being cherished remains.

* * *

He knows he’s in for it when she calls him “sweetie.”

The first time it happens, they’re at a block party in Ivy Town and he accidentally lets it slip that she’s the interim CEO for Palmer Tech. The minute it registers with their neighbors, they immediately start asking for advice, discounts on tech and a bunch of other favors.

Instead of showing her annoyance immediately, she grits her teeth into a very, _very_ fake smile and says, “Sweetie, would you get me a refill, please?”

The minute they get home she makes it clear that under no uncertain circumstances is he ever to mention her job again to those “vultures” and if he does, she will make Slade Wilson look like a freaking puppy dog.

Those are her words. “A freaking puppy dog.”

So he likes to avoid all instances of “sweetie” as much as possible, because it’s a subtle message for him. It’s what she uses when she wants him to know that he’s in trouble in the presence of others.

The thing is, he’s pretty sure Digg’s figured it out by now.

The day after they rescue Ray Palmer, Felicity walks into the lair and he and Digg are already sparring on the mats. He shoots her a quick smile before turning his attention back to Digg, who’s about to come at him with his eskrima sticks.

He’s so distracted, in fact, that he doesn’t see it at first.

The two continue training until a quick, urgent beeping noise alerts them to a crime in progress.

Felicity’s fingers fly over her keyboard as she pulls up the ECC report. “It looks like a robbery in progress at a corner store in the Glades,” she says.

It’s just the three of them tonight. Thea’s taking a much needed break while Laurel said she needs to catch up on paperwork from her day job. So he and Digg suit up quickly and set out toward the coordinates Felicity gives them.

“Be careful, sweetie,” she says into the comms piece, and he freezes right before they’re about to crash through the window of the corner store.

Shit, he thinks to himself. What did he do?

Digg huffs next to him, and he’s pretty sure it’s a distracted semblance of a laugh.

Quickly getting his head back in the game, they diffuse the situation by incapacitating the robber and leaving him tied up for the police to find him. Then they patrol the area for any possible accomplices and take them out one by one, leaving them as calling cards.

Once it’s all finished, the two of them hop into the van — he rides shotgun while Digg drives.

“So,” Digg begins with a smirk underneath his Spartan helmet. “What’d you do this time?”

He doesn’t even bother to ask what his friend is talking about. Digg’s been around enough to know Felicity nearly as well as he does.

“I don’t know,” he admits with a sigh. “But just in case, would you stick around for a little while until I figure it out?”

Digg snorts. “No way, dude. I’m not about to get on her bad side unless I have to, because with me, she’ll use her Loud Voice. At least with you, she gives you a cutesy nickname.”

“Traitor,” he grumbles under his breath.

They make it back to the lair and Digg decides to call it a night almost immediately. Giving Felicity a quick peck on the cheek and his friend a knowing smirk, he walks out of the lair.

He heaves a sigh before finally turning to her, and sure enough, she’s standing in front of her computer with her arms crossed over her chest and her eyes hard behind her glasses.

Yep, he thinks to himself. He did something and he has _no_ idea what it is.

“Felicity?” he asks tentatively. “Hon?”

“Oliver,” she bites out, “why does my mother seem to be under the impression that she’s going out to dinner with us on Friday night?”

He sucks in a breath. “Because I invited her.”

She looks like she’s been expecting that answer. “May I ask _why_?”

“Because we didn’t get the chance to go before when we planned it and she came out all this way to see you. I thought it would be a nice gesture to invite her out to a nice dinner before she had to go back to Las Vegas.”

She closes her eyes and pinches the bridge of her nose. “Sweetie, there is a _reason_ that I live this far away from my mother. I love her, I love her _dearly_ , but my mother is exhausting and you know this. She’s going to spend this entire dinner asking us when we’re going to get married and what we’re going to name our kids! I can’t handle that!”

He sighs again and walks toward her. He puts his hands on her shoulders and looks at her right in the eyes. “Look, I get it. I know what it’s like not to relate to your mother. My mother and I couldn’t see eye to eye on practically anything.”

She gives him a distrustful look, like she knows there’s a big caveat coming her way.

“But,” he murmurs, “I still loved her. I still _love_ her. She was my mother, you know? She gave birth to me. She was misguided a lot of the times, but everything she did was always to protect Thea and me. And now...what I wouldn’t _give_ to have one more dinner with her.”

Her hard look melts like butter in a hot skillet and she looks down at her shoes.

He uses the pause to drive it home.

“She’s your mother, Felicity. She’s sacrificed so much to keep you safe and happy and she basically did it on her own. The fact that you’re so amazing is a testament to her. How hard she worked. You should carve out just one night to spend with her. And I’ll be there the whole time to hold your hand and let you squeeze it when she starts to drop hints about marriage. OK?”

She closes her eyes and sighs. He takes advantage of that to lean forward and press his forehead against hers.

“OK,” she breathes.

He smiles and closes the distance between their lips to kiss her, long and slow.

When she pulls away, her eyes are open and there’s a smirk on her lips. “But don’t for a second think that this means I forgive you for scheduling this without giving me a heads up. And when she starts talking about marriage and children and white picket fences, _you_ get to be the one to answer her.”

He chuckles and gives her a tiny nod.

All things considered, he probably deserves it.

* * *

He hates it when she calls him “love.”

She only calls him “love” when she’s sad. And he hates — absolutely _hates_ — when she’s sad.

It’s not a hysterical kind of sad. That, at least, he knows how to deal with.

No, “love” means a resigned kind of sad. It’s a helpless kind of sad that leaves him unsure of how to deal with anything.

She comes back to the loft one day after spending almost twelve straight hours at work and she looks completely defeated. It’s in her face, it’s in her walk, it’s in the way she throws herself onto the couch with a grunt and a sigh like it took the last of her energy to just hold herself up.

He’s sitting in the armchair when she comes in, and the sigh immediately tips him off. Setting aside the book he has on his lap he turns to his girlfriend with concern all over his face.

“Hey,” he murmurs. “You OK?”

She nods, her eyes closed and her head up against the back of the couch. “Yeah. I’m fine, love.”

The alarm bells go off in his head and the next thing he knows, he’s sitting on the couch next to her, his hands stroking her hair that’s falling out of the ponytail she puts it in.

“Come on, Felicity,” he murmurs. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

She lets out another sigh, and he swears it’s a sound that makes his heart break.

“It’s just...when you were CEO, did you ever feel like you couldn’t do it? Like you weren’t enough? Like you’d never _be_ enough?”

He nods solemnly. “All the time.”

She turns to him, and her eyes are bright with unshed tears. “That’s how I feel right now,” she whispers. “I feel like this whole CEO is just...it’s just too much for me. I’m so far in over my head, and I don’t know what the hell I’m doing at all. I mean, what was Ray even _thinking_ , signing his stupid company over to me? I’m screwing everything up without even trying, and when I _do_ try, I only make it worse!”

He feels his heart break in his chest at the sound of Felicity doubting herself. Without a second thought, he reaches forward and pulls her body into his chest and presses a kiss on the crown of her head.

“I can’t do this, Oliver!” she sobs. “I can’t do any of this! I’m not cut out for this! I’m just a little IT nerd from Las Vegas! I wasn’t supposed to do any of this!”

“Felicity,” he says, half sternly. He pulls away from her so he can look her straight in the eyes. “Listen to me. I don’t want to hear ‘I can’t’ from you. Do you understand? You are _not_ the woman who ever says she can’t. Ever.”

She rolls her eyes, but he knows it’s just a front because she sniffs a little. “Love, I know you’re under some delusion that I’m made of steel and that I can handle anything, but — ”

“It’s not a delusion,” he interrupts her. “It’s the truth. You may not be made of steel, but you _can_ handle anything. I’m not saying it’ll be easy for you. I’m not saying that you won’t doubt yourself or that other people won’t doubt you. You’ll have tons of people doubting you. But do not, even for a _second_ let yourself think that you can’t handle it.”

“But — ”

“No,” he says firmly. “No buts. I know I wasn’t the best at the whole CEO thing. But that’s because I was never cut out for the office. I was never the one with the business mind. But _you_...geez, Felicity, if I had just let you do everything while I was in charge...who knows. Maybe it would still be called Queen Consolidated.”

She sniffs again, but doesn’t say anything.

“You’re a _great_ CEO. You pulled the company from the brink of bankruptcy. You held on with your fingertips. You’re slowly bringing it back into the black. The reason Palmer chose you was because he knew you could do it. Just like I know you can do it.”

His heart lifts a little when he sees a tiny smile on her face. “You really think so?”

“I _know_ so.”

She closes her eyes before leaning forward and wrapping her arms around his torso.

“I love you,” she whispers into his chest. He doesn’t hear it so much as feels it. It warms his entire heart.

“I love you, too,” he murmurs into her hair.

They stay like that for another hour, and he doesn’t move a single muscle. Not until she lifts her head and climbs onto his lap and presses a slow, heated kiss to his lips.

Then she murmurs the word “darling” against his mouth, and he smiles as he lifts her up against him and carries her upstairs to the bedroom.

* * *

If he had to choose, his favorite is when she calls him “honey.”

“Honey” is for every day. “Honey” is for when she asks his opinion on which skirt makes her look more professional. “Honey” is for when she’s telling him about what happened to her at work.

“Honey” means she’s happy.

The two of them agree to watch over Baby Sara on Lyla and John’s anniversary, hopefully to give the badass couple some much-needed romantic alone time. The two parents drop their baby girl off at the loft and Felicity immediately lifts her out of her car seat and cradles her against her chest before dropping a kiss to the little girl’s temple.

“How are you, my Sara-bug,” she coos. “We are going to have so much fun that you’re going to forget all about your parents and you’ll never want to go home!”

He chuckles with John and Lyla before taking the diaper bag from the two of them. “She’s in good hands, we promise.”

“Oh, we know,” Lyla smiles before dipping down to give her daughter one last kiss. “We’ll see you later, baby girl. Have fun with your Aunt Felicity and Uncle Oliver!”

John gives him a few last minute instructions (bedtime routines, doctor’s numbers, etc.) before wrapping his arm around his wife’s waist and leading her out of the loft.

It’s just the three of them. For some reason, that makes his chest swell with happiness.

Handing Sara off to him for a moment, Felicity takes one of the blankets in the diaper bag and spreads it out in front of the couch so that Sara can safely crawl around. She also lays out a few loud, brightly-colored toys for her to wave around and squeal at.

He sits on the couch and watches as his girlfriend plays with the baby girl. Her face is just completely enraptured by Sara’s every move and he swears that it’s enough to make him fall in love with her all over again.

Sara gets bored of her toys in about an hour, so she crawls off the blanket toward him. She grabs onto his knee and pulls herself up into a standing position. He watches in amusement as she makes grabby hands at him, like she wants him to pick her up. And he’s never been one to ignore a cute girl.

“Hey, Sara,” he murmurs as he pulls her to him. “How are you doing? You like hanging out with us, huh?”

She gurgles a little before rubbing her tiny baby hand over the stubble across his jaw. He makes a face at her and she giggles before slapping his cheeks.

“Looks like I might have to watch out,” Felicity says. He looks up to see her grinning at the two of them, but there’s an oddly intense look in her eye that he can’t quite place. “I think Baby Sara’s trying to steal my man.”

He smirks at her. “Jealous?”

She chuckles and gets up to press a kiss on top of Sara’s head, then a kiss on his cheek. “I would be, but she’s so stinking cute that I might just let her have you. The two of you are probably at the same maturity level, anyway.”

He throws his head back and laughs at that.

Soon enough, Sara starts to get a little fussy and Felicity knows it’s time to try and put her down. She prepares her bottle and pulls the little girl into her lap to feed her.

He watches in silent wonder as she moves around, accomplishing all the mom tasks with the air of a seasoned professional. It’s like she’s done it a million times before and not for the first time in his life did he think how great a mother she would make.

Sara’s eyes slowly start to drift closed and the mouth wrapped around the bottle goes slack. Felicity pulls it away and turns to him.

“Honey, can you grab a burp cloth from the bag?”

He hands it to her and watches as she drapes it over her shoulder. Then she lifts Sara in her arms and starts rubbing and patting her back in firm circles.

“How do you know to do this?” he asks.

She smiles at him. “Did a lot of babysitting in high school and college. Helped pay for my education.”

Sara eventually lets out a tiny, adorable little burp and snuggles in closer to her chest. Then Felicity grabs the U-shaped pillow out of the bag and places it on the blanket on the floor before settling the baby in the center of it.

“There,” Felicity murmurs as she steps back. “I think she’s down for the night.”

He can’t help himself. He reaches forward and wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her in. “You are really good at this.”

She smiles up at him. “Oh, please. Sara’s just an easy baby. A total sweetheart. I’m sure it’ll be way different with our kids.”

Her body suddenly freezes, but his body does the opposite. His entire being is suddenly swallowed by warmth at the thought.

Our kids. _Our kids_.

“You’ve thought about our kids?” he asks in as nonchalant voice as he can manage — which, as it turns out, isn’t very.

She fidgets a little and he can’t help but notice the rather becoming blush all over her cheeks. “Well, I mean...not a _lot_ , you know. Just occasionally. Like when you’re cooking breakfast on Sunday mornings, or when you’re playing with kids on the campaign trail.”

She looks up at him through her eyelashes. “What about you? Do you...do you ever think about our kids?”

He swallows. Because of _course_ he’s thought about them. He’s imagined little girls with dark blonde hair and bright blue eyes like their mother. Or little boys with glasses and proud noses that they probably stole from their grandmother. He’s seen it all in his mind’s eye and it makes his insides ache.

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “I’ve thought about it. I mean, you’d make such a great mother that it seems almost a crime not to let you have at least one child.”

She doesn’t say anything for a long time and he panics for a moment, like maybe he’s said the wrong thing. But finally she looks up at him with that gorgeous smile of hers.

“Well, let’s not forget how amazing a father you’ll be,” she tells him, her voice wavering with emotion. “You’d be so amazing, honey.”

His heart bursts with emotion and he can’t help but lean forward and peck her on the lips. “We’ll be great. Together.”

They sit there together, cuddled on the couch, watching Baby Sara snooze like she’s the most interesting thing in the world. And in that moment, she is.

After a long silence, Felicity speaks up. “Honey? Do you think John and Lyla will miss her?”

He chuckles. “As tempting as it is, I don’t think kidnap is the best idea.”

She sighs. “Rats.”


End file.
